


Not Quite Nyte Blayde (but that's okay)

by SilverBlue



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Johnny is all knowing, M/M, Pent up feelings (and what not to do with them), The Boss is dumb and ingenius at the same time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-14 23:55:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5763838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverBlue/pseuds/SilverBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kinzie and Pierce investigate, Matt and the Boss deal with drama, Johnny watches it all happen (and cleans his guns a crazy amount.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Nyte Blayde (but that's okay)

**Author's Note:**

> A slight deviation - this fic sort of sprang itself on me.
> 
> Also, thank you to all of you who took the time out to read/kudos/bookmark/comment on my other fics :)

“Whoa, who did you piss off?”  
  
Kinzie and Pierce, who had sat themselves down just a few minutes before, turned to face Johnny at the same time.  
  
“You mean, this ain’t you?” Pierce asked, incredulous of Johnny’s surprise.  
  
The Boss was stumbling towards the seats with his head tilted back, pinching just under the bridge of his nose with one hand while the other clenched several blood soaked tissues.  
  
Johnny turned to Pierce; he could feel the pointed look from behind the shades.  
  
“Been here the whole time. Anyway, you think that’s all he’d get if I was pissed?”  
  
Pierce and Kinzie turned to each other instead. Kinzie put her hand up in protest.  
  
“Hey, I know we just got here but I know better than to punch the Boss in the face, I don’t want him bitching at me about how I ruined his ‘roguish good looks’.”  
  
“Right here,” the Boss said to the ceiling. “Wouldn’t mind a hand either.” He reached out with his free hand, grasping air before finding the back of a seat, smearing blood onto metal and material.  
  
“You’re right,” Pierce said, ignoring the Boss. Kinzie stared at him expectantly. “What, you think I did it? Bruises would be a part of his daily outfit if I punched him every time he pissed me off.”  
  
“Still right here.” The Boss walked around the chair and carefully lowered himself down onto the seat. “Appreciate the help by the way.”  
  
“So who was it, Boss?” Johnny asked, his attention returning to the gun now that he was amused enough.  
  
The Boss muttered inaudibly about a door and went quiet.  
  
“Yeah, because that doesn’t sound suspicious.” Kinze turned to Pierce. “Wanna go investigate?”  
  
“Hell, yeah.”  
  
They ran out of the door before the Boss could say anything, leaving the Boss and Johnny alone.  
  
Johnny was going to have to apologise at some point.  
  
*  
  
Shaundi shrugged. “He probably deserved it.”  
  
“It really wasn’t you?” Kinzie pressed further.  
  
“He can be a real dick sometimes but I doubt he could do anything to piss me off.”  
  
“That’s actually true,” Pierce said, after they walked back out into the corridor, door sliding closed behind them. “That time in Steelport where she was freefalling out a plane, and he picked her up only to let her go so he could go _back in_ the plane and do it all over? All she gave him when they landed was a _glare_. My theory is if she were to start, she’d be more destructive than the Boss – that’s why she tries to be so Zen about it.”  
  
Kinzie nodded in agreement at Pierce’s sage observation and they moved onto their next suspect.  
  
*  
  
“I would not go so far as to deliberately risk permanent damage to my software by attempting a forceful impact on someone so dense as the Boss.”  
  
CID bobbed in midair.  
  
Pierce lowered his voice. “Did he just say he was afraid of damage from the Boss’ strength or his stupid?”  
  
“I want to say strength, but I’m pretty sure he meant stupid.”  
  
“Like it’s _catching_?”  
  
Kinzie paused. “I think he considers it a virus.”  
  
“… Okay, then.”  
  
*  
  
“I may find him absolutely infuriating at times,” Asha said as she typed something into the computer, “but I’m a professional. I would be a terrible field agent if I killed everyone who grated on my nerves. In any case, I promised I would only ever harm him under direct orders.”  
  
She cracked her knuckles.  
  
“From who?”  
  
“All your superiors are dead.”  
  
Asha faced them with an eerie smile and the two almost took a step back.  
  
“Now if I told you that, I would have to kill you.”  
  
*  
  
“You seriously believe that I would punch the President of the United States.”  
  
They waited.  
  
“You seriously believe that I would even _think_ about punching the President of the United States and jeopardise my title as Vice President.”  
  
“United States doesn’t even exist any more, no one would know—”  
  
“—and even if they did, no one would care,” Pierce added helpfully.  
  
Keith thought about it but then shook his head.  
  
“Best not to think about it.”  
  
*  
  
“Someone punched the playa? Good for them.”  
  
They didn’t dare accuse Ben of being the one to punch him.  
  
*  
  
“Well, that’s everyone,” Kinzie said once they were back in the corridor. “Someone must be lying.”  
  
Pierce gave her a look as if to suggest she was missing the obvious. “What about Matt?”  
  
“Miller? Like he could actually throw a punch, let alone at the Boss, let alone _in the face_.”  
  
Pierce took a minute to let that scene play out in his head. “You’re right. Let’s go back to Asha, she was looking pretty suspicious to me.”  
  
*  
  
Matt curled into himself, playing his computer game on silent with hands that were pale and shaking. The cold air vent might have had something to do with it – a secret passage leading out of the hangar to somewhere he hadn’t discovered yet – but he knew that wasn’t the main reason if the red bruising that was starting to show across his knuckles was anything to go by, a dull ache throbbing every time he clenched the console or punched the buttons too hard.  
  
The Boss wouldn’t be able to kill him if he stayed here long enough. Perhaps, after a week or so, everyone would forget he was even a member of the crew, putting his disappearance down to accidentally throwing himself out of airlock or finding a way to digitalise himself as a permanent addition in the cyber world.  
  
He tried to immerse himself in the game but he had been reduced to repeating the same level ten times over (and on _novice_ at that); nearly the same number of times he had been repeating the scene played out earlier, over and over in his mind.  
  
*  
  
_One hour ago  
_  
“You said this is some kind of emergency?” the Boss asked, walking up to Matt who was by his workspace, frantically picking up and putting down bits and pieces of technology that he had disassembled.  
  
“Forget emergency, it’s a _crisis_! My copy of Nyte Blayde, which I painstakingly scoured the whole of the intergalactic web for, has gone missing. Did you know it took me nearly a whole month to finally come across an alien who appreciated the fine art?”  
  
“No, and not sure I needed to.” The Boss scanned the worktop. “Uh … you need me for this?”  
  
“Of course I do, I need you to find out who’s behind it! I left it _right here_ , I was just about to enjoy watching the first season while I re-assemble this piece of equipment and now it’s gone!” He narrowed his eyes. “I bet it was Pierce. I _thought_ he looked suspicious when I saw him lurking around here this morning.”  
  
“You don’t have a backup?”  
  
Matt looked at the Boss in temporary surprise, a quip ready on how the Boss even knew about backups, but he shook his head instead.  
  
“Unfortunately, no. I knew if I saved the data on the computer, Kinzie would eventually delete it out of spite – which she did after CID so _kindly_ allowed Kinzie to access my files – so I made certain to create a hardcopy.”  
  
“You … don’t have a backup of the backup?”  
  
“It’s been on my to-do list ever since we defeated Zinyak.” His distress was starting to show in the way his voice rose higher and more manic with each sentence. He shot a wide-eyed, pleading look.  
  
“Isn’t there anything you can do, Boss?”  
  
If Matt stared at him any longer with that look, the Boss knew he was going to break. It was time he put his foot down before he was weakened.  
  
“Look, Matt, I don’t have time for this.”  
  
The Boss faltered slightly when Matt’s look turned into pained disbelief.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘you don’t have time’? What else is more important?”  
  
The Boss pushed on. “Did you miss the part where I’m the leader of the Zin? You know, ruling the universe, attending galactic meetings? I’m not playing detective for a dumb TV show.” He inhaled sharply. “You know what, while we’re at it, let’s just quit this whole … _thing_ we’ve got going on – ever since we started fucking, you’ve been bitching about everything, coming to me with every tiny problem, relying on me to do shit for you. How about you stand on your own two feet for a—”  
  
Hot pain struck his nose and the Boss stumbled back.  
  
“I have absolutely no problem standing up for myself!”  
  
The Boss lifted his hand to his throbbing nose and hissing as he lightly touched the area. He withdrew his hand to find blood on his fingertips. He looked at Matt, whose expression, twisted in anger, melted to mirror the shock he must have had on his own face.  
  
Before the Boss could say anything, Matt darted out of the room.  
  
*  
  
“You got to admit, the kid’s got guts,” Johnny commented after being told the story.  
  
“I don’t know where the fuck he learned to punch like that, Asha said he failed all his combat training.”  
  
Johnny hummed nonchalantly.  
  
The bleeding had finally stopped. The Boss’ nose was now an angry purple-red and blood too painful to wipe off stained patches of skin rusty brown; he’d checked, in the reflection of the chair.  
  
“This was supposed to land me in hot sex, not a nose job.”  
  
“Go talk to him. He’s a smart kid, he’ll understand.”  
  
“I expected him to sulk, not … use his fist!”  
  
Johnny seemed more intent on paying attention to his gun than helping him out.  
  
Tired of waiting, he threw the last bit of tissue away. “I’m gonna go talk to him.”  
  
“Good luck, Boss.”  
  
The first place he checked was the hangar; when he found no one inside, he wandered around the rest of the rooms, ignoring all the smartass remarks made by the rest of the crew.  
  
“You won’t be fucking laughing when it’s my turn to punch you in the face,” he muttered under his breath, skulking back to the hangar and dropping to the empty couch. His eyes glazed over, wondering what other rooms or spaces he had overlooked, or if there were any he didn’t know about.  
  
Seconds ticked by. At least they did, until he realised he’d never seen a clock in the ship, and the ticks sounded more like soft taps and clicks. He pushed himself off the couch, walking slowly around the suspicious stacks of crates. He was so close, he was sure he could almost reach out and grab—  
_  
Tap. Tap tap. Click.  
_  
He turned to the air vent and listened, edging along the wall and crouching. A faint blue hue leaked from between the gaps.  
  
“Matt,” he said. He surprised himself at how soft his tone was.  
  
The sounds stopped immediately.  
  
“If you’re expecting some kind of apology, I’m not sorry,” he heard Matt’s voice echo quietly.  
  
He snorted softly and winced at the pain. “Got to admit, I did not see that coming. You’ve ruined my roguish good looks,” he joked, trying to force some laughter into his voice. The only reply he got was Matt sulking silently. “Where’d you learn to punch like that?”  
  
*  
  
_Several days ago_  
  
“Oh.” Matt stopped short at the doorway. “Hello.”  
  
“Hey, kid.”  
  
Johnny was inside, alien guns lined up on the table in order of size. Walking out to risk offending Johnny wasn’t an appealing option, but neither was having a strained conversation where he could risk offending Johnny and be in close proximity to him and his arsenal when he did so.  
  
“You gonna stand there all day?”  
  
Strained conversation it was.  
  
“No, of course not,” Matt laughed, grudgingly making his way towards a chair that wasn’t too close to the impressive collection, but also not so far that it would be considered rude. Johnny picked up a gun at random and examined it, and Matt couldn’t help but follow Johnny’s movements. He just hoped to god that Johnny wasn’t going to test them out on him.  
  
“While you’re here,” Johnny put down the gun and leaned forward, watching from behind his sunglasses. Matt noticed his own reflection and managed a tight smile, shifting so he wasn’t slouched so nervously. “It’s time you and I had a talk.”  
  
“It is? I mean, yes, it is. I don’t believe we’ve really had a chance since your return and we should get properly acquainted if we’re to perform well as a team—”  
  
“About the Boss.”  
  
Matt swallowed visibly, feeling all too uncomfortable at not being able to read Johnny’s expression behind the black shield.  
  
“Oh, is this about his leadership skills? Honestly, while he may come across as a buffoon on occasion, and yes, extremely brash, you have to admire the way he naturally draws everyone—”  
  
“The Boss and you.”  
  
“… Oh.” Matt cleared his throat. “Is this, er, one of those ‘if you hurt the Boss’ talks?”  
  
Johnny barked out a genuine laugh (which Matt felt he should be offended by) and shook his head, chuckling. “No, kid, no.” The chuckles subsided. “This is a ‘the Boss is gonna hurt you’ talk.”  
  
Matt couldn’t hide the surprise at Johnny’s concern and a spark of affection lit inside him.  
  
“Don’t take it the wrong way, I don't care about what goes on between the two of you” – and that snuffed out the affection – “but you’re young and naïve. Wouldn’t be good for the ship’s dynamics if anything happened and you weren’t prepared.”  
  
“I’m well aware that the Boss isn’t one for commitment, if that’s what you’re implying.”  
  
“You think I don’t recognise the looks you’re throwing him?”  
  
“Looks?” Matt glanced up at Johnny. “What looks?”  
  
“Huh.” Johnny leaned back, continuing to watch while Matt tried to decipher the conversation that unravelled one puzzle only to discover another.  
  
“You’re too dumb to actually play dumb so let me tell you straight,” Johnny started, pushing through the beginnings of Matt’s protests. “The Boss, he ain’t one to notice how others feel unless it’s said out loud or it punches him in the face. He ain’t a coward, so he’s not gonna run, but he’s gonna tell you if he’s not on the same page, and if you’re hurt by it, well, that's on you. You knew what you were getting yourself into before you started fucking around with him – literally.”  
  
Matt felt his face heat up and fell quiet, gaze dropping to his hands as he picked at the black varnish on his thumbnail that was beginning to chip. The answer was revealing itself but he wasn’t sure he wanted it to.  
  
“Then again, no knowing what the Boss’ll say if you don’t say anything.”  
  
A speck of varnish flew off the nail, showing the original colours of white and pink.  
  
He could feel Johnny’s gaze weighing down on him, analysing his actions.  
  
“While I appreciate your advice, I insist there are no feelings involved.”  
  
He looked up at Johnny to see him nod. “All right then.” And just like that, the air around them was back to casual. Matt had to wonder if he had just imagined the whole conversation at the way his nervousness eased.  
  
“Hey, Matt.” Hearing Johnny call him by his name automatically caught his attention.  
  
“Anyone ever taught you how to throw a punch?”  
  
*  
  
“Johnny, huh,” Matt heard the Boss say from beyond the vent cover, and then mutter, “funny how he left that out.” Matt stared at the screen. “You could’ve just asked if you wanted to learn.”  
  
He decided to not reply, instead calculating the chances of moving deeper into the air vent without being heard.  
  
“You want to talk about what happened?”  
  
He really didn’t. “Do you?”  
  
“Hey, I’m not the one who has a problem.”  
  
“No, you’re the one who wanted to end—” Matt stopped himself before he said something too close to the truth. “You don’t get to decide when to call things off because you’re a – a _coward_.”  
  
“What did you just call me?” The Boss’ tone was dangerously low but Matt opted for disregarding safety and getting everything off his chest.  
  
“How else am I supposed to explain the sudden rejection? You came to the realisation that you might hold some sort of attachment to me, got cold feet and tried to push me away. At least _I’m_ not afraid to admit—”  
  
“Admit what, Matt?” Even the Boss’ raised voice alone was enough to send a chill down his spine. “Did the words ‘I have feelings’ come out of your mouth? How about ‘I think this is more than just fucking’ or ‘goddammit, Boss, I love you’?”  
  
“ _Love!?_ You really believe several weeks of fucking amount to—” Matt’s head snapped up as the Boss’ last words slotted into place. “Did you just …” He started stringing the day’s events together, how _off_ it had been and the phrases he had been hearing sounding all too familiar …  
  
“ _Have you been quoting Nyte Blayde at me_?”  
  
*  
  
_Several days (minus an hour) ago  
_  
“Johnny, I don’t want you judging me for what I’m about to say.”  
  
Johnny – perched on top of crates and pulling apart another weapon the Boss hadn’t seen ( _Is he a goddamn weapons magnet?_ ) – looked down from his task.  
  
“Real assuring, Boss.”  
_  
Here goes nothing._ “You’re the only one I know experienced in stuff like this, and I don’t have to worry about making an ass of myself.”  
  
Johnny agreed with a gravely hum.  
  
“All this time and the one person to get me wound up is a whiny kid – sure, I don’t know most times if it’s cause I’m frustrated or horny, but ...” The Boss ran a hand through his hair. “I guess what I’m trying to ask for is … advice. You know, with—”  
  
“Boss.” The Boss looked Johnny in the reflection of his shades for the first time since starting the conversation. “I get it.”  
  
And he’s grateful Johnny isn’t dick enough to make him say the words out loud.  
  
Seriously, who’d have thought after working his way around most of the crew that Matt would be the one driving him crazy? Maybe all he’d been missing in his life was a mouthy Brit (and fuck if that accent and the streams of commentary didn’t get him hard, between the shy, “Do you maybe, I don’t know, fancy having a shag?” and the more creative, “If your cock isn’t filling my arse _right now_ I will invent a device that could only be deactivated with my fingerprint and render you indefinitely blue balled to the point you will be _begging_ me for release.”)  
  
Figures literature isn’t the only thing to draw him into the stupid country.  
  
What’s worse, it wasn’t just _any_ Brit … which meant the kid had to be something …  
  
“—Special.”  
  
“What?” the Boss snapped out of his thoughts.  
  
“You don’t have to do anything special,” Johnny repeated in his usual calm tone.  
  
The Boss exhaled slowly. For a second, he thought he’d said everything out loud. “Right. Nothing special.”  
  
“Honestly, Boss? Walking up to him and telling him how you feel, it’s a lot easier than you think. The words’ll be out before you know it.”  
  
He really didn’t think that was going to work.  
  
“If that doesn’t work,” – and the Boss had to wonder if those sunglasses weren’t for reading minds – “actions speak louder than words.”  
  
Yeah, he was more of a hands-on type of guy, but shit with technology and even shitter at putting stuff together. His creative inspiration focused on destroying and he didn’t think Matt would appreciate his computers being the literal target of his affections.  
_  
Affections?_ Now the kid was influencing the way he thought. _  
_  
The only other obvious answer was Nyte Blayde but how do you work with that? He can’t create a simulation and he’d almost rather re-experience Zinyak’s nightmare than write a piece of fan fiction. If Birk was here, he could ask him to act out a favourite scene from one of the episodes, but—  
  
“Well, shit,” he said to himself, awed at his own mind.  
  
“Think of something?”  
  
He nodded slowly, a grin spreading on his face. “I think I did. Johnny, you’re a genius.”  
  
Johnny shrugged, like that was a given.  
  
  
(Johnny could have mentioned his conversation with Matt, but some things were better discovered on your own.)  
  
*  
  
The Boss feigned surprise. “ _What_?”  
  
“Oh my god, this is a rendition of Season 1, isn’t it? Marion’s attempt to gain Nyte Blayde’s attention by stating an emergency only for him to push her away. Her confession followed by his monologue as he wavers between exacting revenge and confessing his true feelings for her.”  
  
“Okay, Matt, you’re now actually starting to scare me.”  
  
The Boss heard scraping noises approach from beyond the vent. Fingers poked between the gaps of the cover, grappling with it until it was eventually dislodged and Matt scrambled out of the vent, straightening himself up in front of the Boss. One look at Matt’s wide, frenzied eyes filled with excitement and bewilderment put the Boss on edge. He was beginning to regret the idea; the intensity was worse than that time they played out his fan fiction.  
  
“Has this all been some kind of elaborate ploy to try and tell me that you have feelings for me without having to make a direct confession?”  
  
The Boss winced. “Confession’s a strong word—”  
  
“I can’t believe you went to all this trouble just to tell me how you feel!”  
  
“Hey, I said nothing about how I feel.”  
  
“You don’t have to, it’s all there in the subtext of episodes three and five. Granted, it wasn’t completely faithful to the plot, and Marion certainly never punched Nyte Blayde on the nose – can you imagine – not to mention how I was diminished to the role of Marion—”  
  
“So that makes me Nyte Blayde, huh?”  
  
Matt snorted and shook his head, a look of pity on his face. “Not on your life! … Though I suppose I can allow you to borrow the title for one day.”  
  
The Boss shrugged. _I’ve had worse._  
  
“There is a question of that – that _thing_ you mentioned earlier. You didn’t mean any of it … did you?”  
  
“Well, if it’ll help you sleep better …” The Boss handed over the copy of Nyte Blayde back to Matt.  
  
“I knew it! _You’re_ the one who stole the copy … creating the emergency! I think I may have to owe you an apology for underestimating your cunning, going to all this trouble just so you could—”  
  
The Boss rolled his eyes and took two steps forward, cupping the back of Matt’s head and forcing their mouths together. He could feel the rush of tension being released beneath his fingers and the drawn out moan from the back of Matt’s throat made him smile into the kiss.  
  
The Boss pulled away from him briefly.  
  
“So, how’s it end?” He asked with a suggestive raise of his eyebrow.  
  
“Well,” Matt started, his voice shaking and slightly breathless. “Marion dies and then comes back to life as The Darkness—”  
  
The Boss closed his eyes for a moment, mentally imagining head butting the kid so he wouldn’t actually have to. “ _This_ , Matt _._ How does _this_ end.”  
  
“Oh. Well, you’re obviously smart enough so, um, how about you show me?”  
  
The Boss pulled the front zip of Matt's suit all the way down in one smooth motion and knelt before him, taking him in his mouth.  
  
*  
  
“Find out who did it?” Johnny asked as Pierce and Kinzie walked in to resume their earlier lounging.  
  
“I still think it’s Asha,” said Pierce.  
  
Kinzie sighed, shrugging. “I don’t know, maybe the Boss was telling the truth, maybe he really did ram headfirst into a door.”  
  
“Any idea where he is now?”  
  
Kinzie pulled a face. “I heard noises I did _not_ need to hear coming out of the hangar, so no guess as to what’s going on in there. I swear to god, if Miller doesn’t wipe the tape again this time I’m going to—” she looked at Pierce the same time he turned to her.  
  
They were both out of the room in a shot.  
  
Johnny snorted, a small smirk on his face.  
  
“Good on you, Boss.”  



End file.
